


Equals

by foolhearty



Series: Equals [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Aftercare Planning, BDSM, Consensual Somnophilia, Consent, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fondness, Grey Warden Stamina, Literally just Sappy Fondness between paragraphs of smut, M/M, Overstimulation, Smut, Somnophilia, Teasing, Trans Male Character, Trans!Fenris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 06:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15213305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolhearty/pseuds/foolhearty
Summary: Anders tears him down expertly, picking only at the threads he knows Fenris is comfortable letting fray. Praise is good. Humiliation in the privacy of their own home is good. Extending the latter beyond the reaches of their front door is not. There is comfort in the distinction, for Fenris; in their most private moments, Fenris is allowed to indulge in a submissive side to himself, a side that not only a year ago he found shameful in the aftermath of his lifetime of abuse, and knows that out in the world at large he is still actively and always Anders’ equal. They give each other what they want and need in the delicate alone times of the morning and night, and spend their days guarding one another’s backs just as fiercely as they would protect Hawke’s, or any of their companions’.





	Equals

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a warning, as I feel it's needed. In this fic, it begins mostly vague but I am depicting Fenris as a transgender man. As a trans nb person myself, I have defaulted to referring to Fenris' sexual organs in the way that I tend to refer to mine for Lewd Thoughts(tm): through employing terminology that implies Fenris is comfortable with his vagina. That said, the term cunt is used a small handful of times through dirty talk and description, so if that term in particular makes you uncomfortable maybe err on the side of not reading this for your own comfort!

The drag of warm skin over his thigh is barely enough to rile Fenris, at this point. For at least the last hour, he’s been lost - feeling somewhere between a great height he could trip over at any moment, and low and docile in a comfortably warm bath. He can register vaguely enough the absence of a cock filling him that he becomes aware of Anders shifting on the bed. He’s met with the mage’s vile, light laugh when his eyes finally flutter open; it must be an amusing sight, a warrior such as himself on the brink of blissful unconsciousness but still managing a growl of displeasure at being suddenly so empty.

“You are angry,” Anders notes, watching the upward bend of Fenris’ lip that reveals the dangerous hint of sharp canines and molars. Anders is well aware of the dangers of the elf’s mouth. When first they began learning one another’s bodies and desires, what Fenris had been content to call love bites had been like steak knives through raw meat. Anders’ shoulders and thighs had been bruised for days and Fenris had refrained from outward acts of affection for further days beyond that. Now, with many months and countless hours of learning and trust gaind behind them, Anders feels no threat when met with a sight of those teeth.

Fenris is a good boy for him. Fenris places his mouth on all the delicate parts of Anders’ body and treats them with only the utmost care and reverence.

Of course Anders can only chuckle at the elf’s display of discontent. He grinds his still hard cock against Fenris’ hip and cups Fenris’ cheek in one hand. “You can’t even manage the words to tell me how angry you are,” he muses, thumbing lightly across Fenris’ cheekbone. “I adore you like this, worn out beyond measure.”

Under Anders’ mixture of praise and torment, Fenris manages a whimper. It fills his gut with heat to know how true the assessment is: were he to attempt to even speak Anders’ name right now, he would sound more ridiculous than a poorly trained Orlesian bard attempting a clarinet for the first time. Squeaky, crackly, and hoarse. It’s humiliating. Exhilarating.

Anders tears him down expertly, picking only at the threads he knows Fenris is comfortable letting fray. Praise is good. Humiliation in the privacy of their own home is good. Extending the latter beyond the reaches of their front door is not. There is comfort in the distinction, for Fenris; in their most private moments, Fenris is allowed to indulge in a submissive side to himself, a side that not only a year ago he found shameful in the aftermath of his lifetime of abuse, and knows that out in the world at large he is still actively and always Anders’ equal. They give each other what they want and need in the delicate alone times of the morning and night, and spend their days guarding one another’s backs just as fiercely as they would protect Hawke’s, or any of their companions’.

This, of course, is all very far from Fenris’ mind as he craves the exhaustion of passing out with Anders still fully inside of him, still working thick loads of his come deep into his cunt.

Reading Fenris’ mind and as enchanted now as he had been the first time he’d been graced with the sight of Fenris well-seated in subspace, Anders acts on little ceremony as he rolls Fenris’ limp and pliable body onto it’s stomach and positions it with care for both Fenris’ comfort and his own needs. When he’s finished, Fenris has his knees tucked up and his backside presented prettily in the air. Anders nips at a cheek before taking hold of Fenris’ hips, positioning himself, and sliding easily back into Fenris’ wet, warm body.

Anders has long since abandoned his habit of tracking how many times he gets Fenris off, when they play this way; what had started in the early stages of their relationship as Fenris insisting he could match Anders’ grey warden stamina step for step has warped into Fenris longing for the overstimulation he knows will come from not being able to do so, but wanting to continue anyway. It had been a thing they began with caution, with weeks leading up to the first time Fenris had been able to truly let go of his carefully crafted control and drift into a place where he could push past his own body’s overstimulated discomfort and think of Anders’ pleasure.

Anders had been careful with Fenris’ trust, still is to this very day, but he will be the first to admit that having a monogamous partner willing to allow him to completely sate himself. It wasn’t often, before Fenris entered his romantic life, that Anders could admit to being well and truly out of energy. Being allowed the honor of stuffing every last drop of his come into and all over Fenris’ body is a gift he doesn’t take lightly.

Anders’ does know one thing, though: judging by the literal puddle under their bodies, Fenris has been dragged to his own peaks more times that they could count on their fingers combined. Anders easily now chases his own fourth orgasm, his stamina lending itself to longer fuckings and heavier loads, rather than fast orgasms brought on in quick succession. Quality over quantity, he had joked to Fenris once, before being met with a halfhearted slap to the face.

Beneath him, Fenris shakes. There’s no poetic way to describe the way Fenris relies on Anders’ hands on his hips simply to stay in position or the way his every breath only adds to his dizziness and delight. His arms rest uselessly, sprawled out on either side of his head, hands lacking even the will to grip at the sheets for the illusion of steadiness.

When Fenris feels Anders wrap one arm around his waist and curl his entire body over his back, he squeaks a faint “yes” into the pillow. Anders presses himself into Fenris as deep as he can reach and stays there, filling Fenris again and thriving on the way Fenris clenches around him completely mechanically, his cunt accepting everything he offers despite Fenris being bone tired and fucked out. Anders pulls out moments later, still hard but showing the first signs of flagging he’s shown all night, and lets Fenris lay slack-bodied on the bed for a short time before rolling him once more over onto his back.

Anders snorts again, palming himself at the adorable sight of Fenris’ unconscious form. He looks all at once content with himself and every bit like he’ll need a long, indulgent bath upon waking. With that plan for the future in mind, Anders presses kisses along Fenris’ jawline, savoring the trust they’ve built between one another.

As he pushes his cock back into Fenris, he recalls the conversation that led to this level of comfort. Fenris, panting under him but so overtly conscious and cognizant when he took Anders’ hand into his own, looked into his eyes, and said: “If I wake tomorrow with you still hard against my back, I will never forgive you. Even should I need my rest, I expect you to continue taking me until you are done.” Anders had voiced his concerns; rightful worries of “you would consent to me having my way with your sleeping body?” met with Fenris’ indignant responses of “I trust you with my waking one, don’t I? What would you do so differently between the two?”

The answer, of course, was nothing. Anders only ever did to Fenris what they had agreed upon ahead of time, either early in their relationship or directly before a scene.

After a long conversation about the level of consent Fenris was giving, and the ways in which they would handle issues if it ever arose, the two eventually settled on a deal that gave Anders the consent to fuck Fenris’ unconscious body had they already been fucking prior to the sleep overtaking him, but only then. Anders was not allowed to decide out of the blue to roll Fenris over from a dead sleep and take him. This, the two agreed, was safe and fair and took ample consideration for their shared desires and concerns. There was also the agreement that should Fenris ever wish to revoke this consent at a later date, this would be respected.

Anders spends a long time grinding into Fenris, leisurely rolling his hips as he passively sought another climax. He’s incredibly too fond of Fenris, taking the time to inspect and gaze over the elf’s body as he works himself to that peak with absolutely no rush in his mind. He notes, as he slides in and out of Fenris, a small handful of bruises and nips that he intends to treat later. Fenris himself claims to prefer the ache of not being healed after a thorough fucking, but Anders’ own comfort relies on being allowed to patch Fenris up completely after extended scenes such as this. Fenris’ bounces back to his usual self easily after long baths and meals, that part Anders has little fear for, but Anders has always been careful to remind Fenris that just because he _can_ handle to ache that comes from being overfucked doesn’t mean he _should_.

At the end of the day, as nice a fantasy as it is, being left with the reminder of what Anders does to him, both he and Fenris frequent both bar fight and battlefield alike. It would not do to enter a fight already in any sort of pain. Despite his grumbling, Fenris agrees for the sake of entering battle without an immediate disadvantage.

This time, after spilling himself into Fenris, Anders can only give a happy sigh and all but collapse against his sleeping lover. For a time, all he does is continue to stare at his face and watch his breathing, but in time his own sleep finds him. It will only last a few hours at most, he knows; Justice is ever-mindful enough to wake Anders when he feels nap time is over and the time to tend to Fenris’ bath and meal have come. For now, though, he’s content, and pulls Fenris tightly to his chest before drifting off to sleep.


End file.
